As I grow older, my neuroses become more and more apparent to me. Apparently everyone else has known about them for quite some time.

Monday, October 20, 2014

PROOF

Runners are weird.

I’ve said it before.

Freaking WEIRD.

I. am. a. runner.

Runners like pain. We must. Why else would we do this? I’ve run 26.2 miles before. I know what this kind of distance means. I know what running does to my body. I know that my quads will lock up at mile 24, my gut will twist into a painful rope, my arms will cry for release, my feet will dread the next step because they know there will be a knife from below, and I will keep running.

I know that there will be a photograph from the finish-line area where all the pain of the day will be etched on my face.

It is PROOF that I was in pain.

Knowing all that, I will do it again. The memory doesn’t even have to fade before I start thinking about my next run. I will wake up, probably someday soon, and look around for an opportunity for pain.

Maybe I won’t sign up for a marathon right away, but I will go out and run again. I will run to the edge of death. I will make my body hurt. Some part of me will wonder what in the heckfireandshoot I was thinking when I signed up to race, and the other side of me will tell that part to STFU.

While the marathon is particularly painful, it’s important to remember that the 5K is too. Even for marathon runners. Maybe more so because the explosive nature of the shorter distance is not the same as the long ache that creeps upon the distance runner.

I kept saying during the training miles of this year that next year I would commit myself to a return to the short distances. I need to regain my speed. I have the base I want, now it’s time to go fast again.

This means, in theory, I should have more time to give my loved ones. I will still be able to enjoy group runs, but if I miss a mid week ten miler, it won’t be the end of the world. I am ready to cut back and savor the run.

But I know that there will still be the ache and burn that comes with my run. I know it will mean the taste of blood in my breath in the moment and sore quads the next day. And yet, I will keep running.

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About GBA GF

I'm a mother of 3 kids, and I stayed at home until they all went to school. A few years ago I decided to go back to college so that I can have a job I actually want instead of a job that I'm "stuck with" due to lack of skills. Now I'm a nurse, working full time, and I love it.
I like to write. I find peace when I draw. I meditate during my swim. I enjoy my ride. I love my run. A freaking lot. (Like a heroin addict loves H.)
I have run a lot of races, and while I'm super proud of the marathon that I finished in Dec '11, I'm equally proud of the 5K I finished in April of '08.
I grew up in Virginia Beach, and people always act like that's a big deal. "Wow, that must have been great". No, not really. It's not like I lived on the beach. I did try surfing once, but only once. Fortunately my nose wasn't broken...
~Savor the Run~

Incase of Emergency - BREAK GLASS

GARMIN FORERUNNER 305 Owners ~ Garmin Non-responsive? "nurse g." just wants to remind you that often a soft reset is as easy as holding the MODE & RESET buttons simultaneously for about 10 seconds. Let go of those two buttons, press the power button, and the unit will turn back on.

Defining GBA**

"...And I smiled to myself as I thought of EXACTLY what I would say when he asked me how I was feeling. I mean here I am.

I’m at frickin mile 23 1/2 of a marathon. I’m crushing my PR. I’m running with my POSSE. I have stopped to (unsuccessfully) vom on the side of the course. Yup. I knew what 2 words I would say.... at mile 24 Q dropped the other group, and I was rewarded for my patience. 'How you doing?' 'Galactically BadA$$'."